Killian took care to keep silent as he passed by Cronan and Madonne. To utter the names of the shadow deities was believed a sin in itself—and bad luck while standing in the ruins of their former house of worship.
“Zairyan and Gianna.” Wisdom.
Alvaro and Sapphira—Truth. The youngest of the worshipped.
Last was Gandraian, god of war and destruction. His sacred animal was the boar. Abrienne, his female counterpart, lay dead at his feet. Legend said he’d loved her; legend also said he’d killed her.
A cold wind swept in from the mountains, stirring the black dust coating the floor of the temple and chilling him to the bone. When the Wraith called him over to look at something, he’d never been so grateful for the sickly prick.
~
Kit ran his palm over the strange symbols etched into a fallen pillar, remembering back to a time when the people who had worshipped here were free.
A better time.
“Do you see that?” called the Wraith.
“See what?” Killian sounded bored to tears, but as he joined Elden near the edge of the clearing, not far from the last standing wall of the temple, he fell silent.
Kit strode toward them—to where they were gaping at what appeared to be…well, nothing at first glance. But as he drew closer, he saw the faintest shimmer, like sunlight reflecting off the surface of a lake. The shape was roughly the size of a door. From one angle it was no larger than a slit, and from another it looked big enough to walk through.
“Gentlemen,” Killian said. “I believe we’ve found the entrance to the Shadowlands.”
The three of them stood side by side for a long while, staring in silence at the shimmering rectangle before them. The snowy woods and the mountains that lay beyond were visible through it, as if they were gazing through a foggy windowpane. Kit had a feeling that if they walked through it, their surroundings would look very different.
“I’ve heard rumors about the Shadowlands,” Kit said. “I’d bet it’s High Summer on the other side.”
Killian released a sigh of longing.“Oh, how I wouldn’t mind a little heat!”
There was no warning of the stranger’s approach, but Kit felt his presence as he strode into the glade. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he reached for Wolfsbane.
A cool male voice drawled, “My family doesn’t like that you’re poking your heads around here.” As Kit and the others whirled to face him, there was the distinct hiss of a blade sliding free of its sheath.
A blade of black glass. The kind the Shadowfolk forged in their halls of onyx in the Shadowlands.
The stranger standing before them gave a smile, the casual tilt of his lips suggesting he could kill all three of them without blinking. His armor—made from hardened leather of the highest quality—showed the muscles in his legs and arms as he circled them, a predator analyzing prey. A pair of enormous vulture’s wings were folded behind him, and two horns showed through ink-dark hair.
There was no warning of his attack. In fact, as far as Kit could tell, the man didn’t even move. For all Kit had learned in his years as General of the Wolf Pack, he wasn’t fast enough to stop the wave of writhing darkness that descended upon them.
~
Kit was out for only a moment, but when he came to, he was blind. Darkness engulfed his surroundings, and no matter how many times he blinked, he couldn’t clear his vision. It took him an excruciatingly long time to remember where he was, but as soon as he realized what had happened, the memory of the thrashing darkness rushing back into his mind, he was on his feet.
He’d fought blind before. The darkness wasn’t something he could control, but he would use it to his advantage or die trying.
There was blood beneath his left ear from where his head had connected with the icy ground. Somewhere nearby, he heard blade connecting with blade. For a moment he wondered who was still standing as he wove around the trees, utilizing his wolf senses to better see in this blindness. His muscles rippled as the beast that made up half of his soul stirred, now at full attention.
The feel of wind on his face alerted him to the attack. He ducked to the left—and tripped over a fallen pillar.
Well, at least he knew exactly where he was now.
Crouching, he dug his fingers into the snow, feeling for the earth slumbering beneath. The times that Kit called upon nature were slim; it was something he felt he had no right to manipulate. But today…today, he could use the help.
The soil warmed beneath his touch, and ancient whispers coursed through his blood. His teeth sang as magic reverberated through his body and tunneled straight to his core.
A swift wind stirred the snow at his command, sweeping away the unnatural blackness that had flooded the clearing. And finally, he could see.
Killian’s eyes found his from across the clearing. Blood was leaking from his nose, and his eyes were red. It seemed the magic had been too powerful for even his Shield to handle.
